The End
by Hohenwepel
Summary: This should be the end, the end of the Holy Roman Empire, but the beginning of something more


Disclaimer: I don't own anything :(

A/N: So this my first fanfiction I publish here, so please don't be mean. English is also not my mother tongue.

I already published this fanfiction on wattpad but this one is the hopeful better version...

Where was he? France looked around, there was nothing, nothing but fields and bushes. The sky was gray, covered in clouds, it did look like it will rain. How suitable, France sighed.

He didn't want to, but he knew that this was the only way. The only way to succeed, the only way to be an empire once again. The Holy Roman Empire was sick, but that didn't mean that his people would stop fighting against him.

The Germans there stubbord and sometimes scary. After all they were known for their temper, not their manners. **(I stole this sentence from another fanfiction, I'm sorry)**

If they would unite, in the future, nobody would stop them, they would rip apart the world, as it was known and they would start with him.

The Germans were strong, nobody could deny that, but as long as they didn't know that they would be even stronger if they stop fighting and work together everything would be fine.

Yes, destroying their empire and courage would protect the world from the Germans and their beer and sausage. France nodded to himself, it was the best, the best for him, for his people, for the world.

But not for little italy, a little voice whisperd. Italy would loose his first love, at any other points of history France would have choose another way, but he couldn't. Not now, not here.

"France?", a voice asked. France turned around to look at the source of the voice, of course he already knew who it was, Holy Roman, he looked even sicker, he looked as good as dead. But his voice was still strong. Holy Roman's body maybe accepted his fate but not his spirt. Never his spirt.

Holy Roman gripped the hilt of his sword tighter. It was far to long for his body, he looked like he was four, he always had.

He remembered how their father Germania told him to look after his younger brother. And he always had, or at least tried.

After all France had a lot of sibblings, even thoug they didn't always get along, they were still his brothers and sisters from different mothers.

England had Brittania, Denmark and Sweden had Scandinavia and he had Ghaul, France didn't know who Prussia's, Poland's, Holy Roman's, Switzerland's, Liechtenstein's and Austria's mother were but he didn't care, they were family and now he had to fight against one of them.

France smiled at Holy Roman "There you are! I thought you wouldn't come." He raised his sword. And didn't waist any time, he wanted to end this as quick as possible.

He was fast, Napoleon wanted him to be strong and fast but this was his brother, he hesitated for a moment, a moment that the Holy Roman Empire used to stab him.

France yelled and struggled away, pressing his hand at his side. Holy Roman smirked "What's that? The great French Empire stricked down by a dying child?", he mocked. France's anger inflamed.

France's swort thrust became faster, violenter and stronger. He was angry, so angry, how could this child, this small dying child even hit him? He was an rising empire, he would conquer the world, nobody would stand in his way to glory- something red hit his face.

A small face looked up to him, red drops run down his face. "Non!!! Non! S'il vous plaît ne pas! Please don't be dead! Non, non, non please frérot? Can you hear me? Frérot! Frérot!"

Tears begann to blur his vision. This couldn't be true, no, never. Not his baby brother, not his frérot. He was dead, killed because of him. Because of his anger.

He know that it would end like this, that this was the only option, but still, his brother, no...

France didn't how long he sat there with his brother's corps in his arms, but it began to rain and wipe off the blood and the mud. Holy Roman would have looked like he sleeped, but his eyes stared wide open at France, France cloosed them. He could no longer bear the look.

"I'm sorry frérot" France got up with his brother in his arms. He began to walk.

A feeling, a feeling of someone punching him in his guts told him that he entered his enemys land, his brother's land, his dead brother's land.

But he didn't stop walking until he stand at an old ork tree, the tree was big and tall. It was standing alone on a small hill surrounded by cornflowers.

This was the place most of the antics were buried.

Germania buried Britannia, Skandinavia and Ghaul here, the mothers if his children and also his lover the Roman Empire and in the end Germania's children buried him here. A good place to bury his brother.

He layed him down and begann to dig a hole with his bare hands. After some hours he was satisfied. He lifted his brother up and layed him into the grave. Then he closed it as fast as he could, he could no longer bear to see his frérot like this.

France put a bunch of cornflowers at the grave and kneeled down, he sayed every prayer he knew before standing up again.

"I will conquer the world for you, frérot. I will give you and your people peace. Je t'aime. Ich liebe dich, frérot!", France whispered in broken german.

"There will be peace for you" France turned around and left to conquer the world.

Had he stayed just a little longer, he would have seen the small boy between the branches. A small blond boy with blue eyes.

The boy smirked and jumped down the tree "Oh brother, what a foolish thought."

The boy turned to the east, he needed another one of his brothers, one who would revenge him.

He smilled darkly "There will be war!"


End file.
